


The Difference

by echo (echoflowertea)



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoflowertea/pseuds/echo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael reflects on his lovers, both past and present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oscurita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscurita/gifts).



> A birthday gift for the LOVELY Oscurita.
> 
> I can't even explain how cool this chick is. Like. When we met all those months ago and started talking about GTA, I never thought I would make a friend that shared so many sentiments with me on the source material. Someone I could theorize with, a girl that Knew Her Fucking Stuff, someone I could count on to get through the fandom drama and just enjoy the game for what it was worth.
> 
> Her fic [Million Dollar Man](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3962962/chapters/8887858) is a fucking masterpiece. It's amazing. A perfectly characterized Michael without the bullshit. You couldn't have picked a more talented person to represent him fully. She has such an incredible way with words and every day I'm thankful that someone of her caliber chooses to write for us. She doesn't get nearly as much praise as she should.
> 
> Happy birthday, sweetness! I hope you like it!

When Michael was a kid, he idolized his mother.

It was just how it went. She was the provider as far as he was concerned. She made sure he went to bed at a halfway decent hour. She did her best to cook for him, though a lot of her dishes came out of a box and ended up tasting like sawdust. She tried to keep it together in their tiny, decrepit trailer in the middle of ass-end nowhere.

He loved a lot of things about her.

How he could hop up on the kitchen chair to get his bi-weekly haircut instead of running down to the salon where she worked. She spared him from older women (with too much makeup sticking to their sagging skin) pinching at his cheeks. He didn’t have to sit in the waiting room and stare at year-old magazine subscriptions with topics he couldn’t even understand. And worst of all, there wasn’t anything he could do to drown out the incessant chattering and gossiping of the entire staff.

She would always adjust the antennas on their T.V. for him when the picture turned to static. It didn’t matter what she was doing, either. He would call her name from the couch and she would just waltz on over like it was second nature and get it just right. He swore she was magic.

She kissed his brow and called him “Mickey” to save him from his namesake. Both of them knew how much he loved the character and would much rather use that in the house than anything else. Especially “junior”.

And she always managed to use just the right amount of foundation to cover up both of their bruises and scars.

“Hey, ma! You home?”

He stood in the doorway and lingered there for a response. Nothing.

Michael clutched the drawing in his hand and ambled over to the kitchen. Stuck it on the fridge where she could see it. Hopefully she would notice it right away; some days she just headed straight for the bottle before anything else.

In an attempt to keep himself busy, Michael plopped down in front of the T.V. About fifteen channels to go on, but he was content to watch anyway. Besides, for his birthday he got exactly what he wanted: a subscription to a movie channel with every single conceivable film he could drink in.

Days like this were more frequent the older he became. His mom would stay at work rather than want to come home. In the summer it was boring as hell because he was cooped up all by himself. He could’ve gone out and caused trouble, but as long as he had these movies, he was set.

Because these took him into a world where everything was exciting and raw. Places far beyond the little town they’d moved into. Leading men who didn’t take shit from anybody. With Vinewood beauties on their arms and honor codes that left him speechless. He wanted to be a part of that world. With heists and underhanded deals. With money and the ability to travel. To operate above everyone else with respect from every single person that knew their name. Recognition. Power. Importance!

“Hey, Mickey.”

“Ma!” He jumped up from his seat and rushed over to the fridge, standing in front of his picture proudly. “I got you somethin’!”

“Not now, baby. Get mama a drink, wouldja?” She pushed past him and headed toward her room, peeling off her top as she went. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

“After you drink...?”

He didn’t bother waiting for a response. He climbed on top of the counter to the liquor cabinet and reached for her pick of the poison: vodka. The stuff gave him a headache just by looking at it. He wasn’t sure why, the fact that it was clear alcohol sort of messed with him. His dad preferred to drink beer, which at least was easy to tell from water. Michael made the mistake of coming in one day and downing the nearest glass on the table. He was sick for the whole night while his mom screamed at him to stop puking.

He tipped and teetered. His knees slid and he lost his balance, taking the entire bottle down with him.

The scream left his throat as soon as he caught sight of the blood. His cut stung and the shattered glass dug into his skin, his mother rushing over from the bathroom.

“What the fuck is going on out here, Mickey?”

He couldn’t even get his words out. He was too busy sobbing.

“God damn it! Why would you do that? What were you thinking, you damn moron?” His mom snatched the remains of the bottle off the counter with her bare hands, sliding them into the nearby trashcan. “Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”

She left him on the floor for about ten minutes. Ten. Agonizing. Minutes. By the time she came back, Michael had gone from shrill hysterics to quiet acceptance that he was going to die. There was so much blood.

“Poor baby. Poor sweet little Mickey.” She swooped him up and peppered him with kisses. He smelled something bitter on her breath, but didn’t push away when her lips met his brow. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

She made it up to him by tucking him into bed that night. He was too old for stories, but she told him one anyway. He wished it didn’t take them both walking on eggshells to do it.

* * *

 

When Michael was a teenager, he idolized Sandra Connelly.

She was a dream. Head cheerleader of his high school. A 4.0 GPA. She was everything that he thought he wanted. A lot of people said she looked like the classic Vinewood beauties that he saw when he closed his eyes. Light tousled hair, eyes that were as sharp as her tongue, and curves that went on for days.

They met at his first football game. He was put on the team in junior varsity, but his skills more than made up for his age. He had just the right body type to pummel people into the ground. He could outrun nearly anyone they put him up against. And in his junior year, he was the team’s star quarterback. Your typical, all-American boy. The kid that got out of detention and suspension because he could bring the big victory to the homecoming game. The one that teachers bent over backwards for just so he could keep his spot. He spent countless afternoons sitting in the principal’s office while the head man in charged chewed out anyone that dared to stand in his way.

The Friday night lights were in full swing, the crowd cheering so hard he could feel their screams thrum in his chest behind the protective padding of his uniform, the energy so bright and vibrant that he could barely keep the dopey grin off his face. He downed a bottle full of water and got into formation, barely glancing off to the side to sneak another peek at the enormous turnout.

No one knew his name. Not yet. But they would.

He bit down on his mouth protector.

“RED 52! RED 52! HUT HUT!"

The ball snapped. Michael grabbed it and took off toward the end zone.

He wasn’t getting sacked tonight. Not after grueling hours spent training for this moment. He pushed past all of the kids that tried to shove their way into him, assholes that would snatch this moment of pride away like it was nothing. He forced himself to propel against the freshly mowed grass, the sweat stinging his eyes, letting out an animalistic growl as his team protected him from all sides.

He saw the finish line and crossed it.

Everyone went fucking berserk.

His team came up and clapped him on the back, whooping with joy as he stole the first score of the game. The first touchdown of the game. It was fucking incredible. Between his entire school stamping their feet in the bleachers and the snap of his mom’s polaroid, he was sold. This was what he was going to do for the rest of his life.

At halftime he watched the cheerleaders get into formation. Sandra at the front. Her skirt swaying and leaping upward as she performed tricks and twists. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her. She was amazing. Limber. Graceful. And just downright fucking _hot._ He found himself licking his lips while he watched her roll her arms and shout at the top of her lungs.

He was walking off the field when he heard his name. Hearing it on her lips made it that much sweeter. And he tried to play it cool despite the expression it put on his face.

“Hey, nice touchdown, rookie. Hope to see more of that this year. We sure could’ve used you.”

“You weren’t too bad out there yourself.”

She smirked at him. “Oh, gee, _thanks_. You watching pretty closely there?”

“Kinda hard not to.”

She choked back a laugh and punched him on the shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Townley. See you at the next game.”

Oh, he saw her, alright. He saw her every game the rest of the season. By the time they went to the state championship, she was his number one.

Life with Sandra was something else. He spent less time at home watching movies and more time making out with her in the back of her dad’s car. She was crazy. She was wild. She made him laugh and made him feel important.

“Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever think about goin’ to college?”

“Yeah, probably. Gonna get a scholarship or somethin’, play professionally. You?”

“Same. We should try to apply for the same schools.”

“I feel ya.”

Except they never did, because Sandra dumped him.

He felt himself losing her as the years went on. She said it was because of his “fucking attitude”, but he didn’t buy it at all. She just got tired of him. Broads were always like that. They pretended to like you enough until the initial spark faded, then they were happy to move on to the next big thing.

He was training with his team one night before a game. It was snowing outside and he was freezing his balls off trying to keep warm. The new recruits were fucking terrible and couldn’t take direction, not like him at all. He was fucking tired of running the same drills over and over again.

“No, you fuckin’ turd! When he says you guard, you fuckin’ guard! You don’t just stand there with your thumb up your ass!”

“Fuck you, Townley!”

Michael tore his helmet off and grabbed the little squirt by the collar, lifting him off his feet easy. “The hell did you say to me? Who do you think you are?”

“TOWNLEY! Put him down!”

“Ah, fuck you! And fuck you, too!” He spit in the running back’s face and it all went downhill from there.

Maybe he was itching for a fight. Maybe he was just bored. But he was irritated from both the weather and the piss-poor efforts of his team. He was fucking tired of carrying them through victory after victory, each one narrower than the last. And they had the nerve, the damn gall, to sit there and tell him that he wasn’t special. That he was part of the team. That he was just a single part of some lifeless entity that couldn’t wipe its own ass, let alone score enough points to take over a game.

His fist sank into his teammate’s face and the both of them just launched at each other. Straight into the snow. Blood staining the ground and sticking to their cheeks and forehead. Spittle flecking at his lips. He dug his knuckled and twisted them as hard as they could go, glad that he could feel the flesh under the uniform give way because all of them were being punished by not wearing padding out here in the freezing cold. He revered the way that the guy screamed out in pain, the both of them laying into each other without hearing a single word that his coach barked at him.

A couple staff members rushed up to pry them apart, his name being chanted in the most bittersweet mantra he would remember.

He grinned through the blood and pain, the swelling near his eye starting up. His coach stood in front of him with his arms crossed and his face as red as their uniforms.

“What were you thinking, boy?! Did you not hear me tell you to stop? Or are you just that fucking brain dead like your father?!”

Michael picked himself up and punched him right in the kisser.

Sandra didn’t talk to him for a week.

She only caved when he got the courage to head to her house to see her for himself. Her dad stood at the door and tried to intimidate him into leaving, but he wasn’t having it. So she tore away from her hidey hole and met him outside, the both of them lingering on her porch. He wouldn’t be surprised if her dear old daddy was listening in through a cracked window.

“You’re out of control, Mike. I can’t do this any more. That’s the fifth time you got into it this year, and for what? Because some little twerp couldn’t handle the laps?”

“You weren’t there, Sandy. You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Who cares?! This isn’t the first time. I’m so sick of this. Last week you went ballistic because my mom had the nerve to get mad at your mom for showing up to our party wasted. She threw up in the punch and flashed some of the party guests! And you just...took her side when I sat there and talked about it!”

Michael frowned. “Hey. That’s my fuckin’ mom. Of course I’m gonna stick up for her.”

“She’s a drunk, Mike. She spends all day in the bars and you’ve been carrying her weight for the last two years. When’s the last time she paid a bill? You’ve been shelling out for her and she’s never done anything for you. She always says she forgets about your games, but you and I both know she purposefully misses them because she’s too busy bragging about you at the bar so she can get laid!”

He saw red and his fists started to shake. “Shut. Your damn. Mouth.”

“See? Why are you getting so defensive? Like, I just don’t understand it. You’ve missed more games than you’ve played in, you barely go to practice, you’ve broken your arm twice in the past six months just getting into pissing matches with people on the team. One of these days you’re going to lose it and really hurt yourself, and I can’t be here to do this any more.”

Something sparked in him. Mild panic. He couldn’t – no, she couldn’t mean that. “Baby...”

“Yeah, it’s always ‘baby’ when you want me to stay. But I’m so over this. What are you gonna do? Because you’ve told me about ten thousand times you’re gonna shape up, but I don’t see any fucking results.”

That was it. He couldn’t pretend not to be mad at her for all of this. This bullshit. He switched tactics. He could get her to back down if he put her on a guilt trip.

“Maybe I would give more of a shit if you did more than just talk shit about me and my family. Mike, your mom’s a piece of shit! Mike, you’ll end up just like your dad! Locked away in Alderney State Correctional! Mike, get your shit together because I’m little miss perfect, the girl who does no wrong!”

She laughed bitterly. “God, this is just so like you. Blaming everyone but yourself. You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Don’t come near me again.”

He left with the wind stinging his cheeks. It could’ve been the bitter cold or the bitter tear stains leaving frosted trails down its wake. He wasn’t sure and he didn’t care.

A week later, he suffered from a cervical fracture that put him out of commission just long enough for the school to decide that he wasn’t fit for the team any more.

And then his entire future fell apart.

* * *

 

When Michael was still young as hell and felt like he could take on the world, he idolized Jacqueline Johnson.

It probably wasn’t healthy, falling for one of the crew. She wasn’t like the rest of the girls he messed around with. They only stuck around so long as he had coke to spare and a fistful of cash. She was there to make money, but it never depended solely on him; she got by just fine on her own.

She was amazing. Burning bright against everything around him. How the hell did she stand out against the backdrop of all their crimes? When Lester first introduced them, he was skeptical. He wasn’t sure she could hold her own. Was a little concerned for her. Girls like her, pretty like that, were the ones being saved, not the ones robbing banks with a feral grin.

He wasn’t really sure what love was before then. His fling back in high school was something that made him feel giddy, but not whole. With Jack, everything flowed so much easier. He was interested in what she had to say and he wanted to know more about her. It didn’t help that she was so guarded, but he was glad to take what he could.

She left him once. Came back. He never thought he would see her again, and his feelings about her hadn’t changed a damn bit.

She was a welcome break from everything that could’ve gone wrong. The summer they spent together was more than he could’ve hoped for. For once, he actually felt his age. Like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his back. Between guns aiming at his head and Trevor’s crazy antics, he was glad to have a partner that was gentle with him enough that he didn’t have to put on such a fucking tough guy act.

Because the others, as much as he liked them, were all bravado and no substance. Jack didn’t have to stoop to their level. Not when she could prove a tenfold how talented and gung-ho she was.

Everything came together. She brought out his boyish charm. Something he thought he lost along the way of botched jobs and his time spent in prison.

Jack wasn’t the type of girl to live a cushy life and turn to crime just to rebel. He was glad that she understood him.

“So your dad was a deadbeat.”

“Yep. Same ol’ story.” Michael sipped at his whiskey. It was cold enough to quench his thirst, pushing back the sweltering heat of the muggy summer weather. “Yours?”

“Didn’t know him.” She shrugged and rolled onto her back, the strap of her tanktop falling off to one side with the practiced motion. A few wisps of hair fluttered backwards when the fan finally reached her with its gentle puffs of air, but she seemed content even when it disappeared and made its way to him. “Guess that’s what happens when he up and splits.”

Michael wasn’t sure if he would’ve preferred that. His own father was a fucking asshole. He was in and out of prison all the time. The last stunt landed him in the clink for a decade. That was when his mom got the trailer so they could get as fucking far away from him as possible. So he couldn’t keep sending letters for money or plaguing their life with charge-by-the-second phone calls.

“When I was a kid, I never knew what the hell to say to the other kids. You know how they are. Nosy as shit. Lots of them asked me where he was.”

“I made stuff up as I got older,” Michael chimed, running a hand down her exposed thigh. Feeling the bountiful flesh press back against his fingers and slipping along with the thin sheen of sweat. “Got them to stop talkin’. Ma said I should just make somethin’ up. So I did.”

Jack laughed. “Like what?”

“Puttin’ me on the spot here. Uh....let’s see. One year he was drivin’ a truck across state lines delivering cargo. Another I said he joined the marines. I think at one point I even said he was a roadie for Love Fist. That was my senior year.”

She buried her face in the pillow and really went at it. It brought a silly grin to his face.

“What, like you could do better?”

“Yeah. My dad up and left because he became a racecar driver.”

“No kiddin’? Well, mine saved Mitch Dexter from a heart attack in an airport and he was so grateful he got hired on as his personal physician.”

“My dad was training for a triathlon and he ended up saving a family from a killer shark. He rode on top of it back to shore after punching it into submission.”

He rolled on top of her and stared down at her exhilarated expression, pushing her mop of hair backwards so he could plant a series of kisses down her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and he fell into her with a grunt.

Michael wouldn’t say he was sheltered. He was experienced in a lot of ways.

In skeezy, sleazy bars he sat on the stools and downed his whiskey. Always took it neat. The barflies found him somehow. They waltzed up to him with a bat of their eyes and the thick cloud of perfume nearly choking him through the smoke and coke, but he humored them anyway. They all had one thing in mind and he was happy to oblige. Because a quick rut between the sheets was just the right amount of stress relief he needed after a long day of robbing people and struggling to make ends meet.

He had his share of women. He was handsome as hell, he knew it, too. He had the type of stories that had girls swooning when they reached over to cop a feel on his muscles. A wink that could melt better. And a lopsided smile that always got him a discount on his bill from the waitress with too many charges and just enough time for him to lay on the charm. Maybe he was a dick for using what he had, but it got him his way. He didn’t mind making a girl’s day a little brighter by showing interest in her.

Jack never seemed to mind when he acted a little friendly with the people they encountered. She wasn’t too shy to sit with him and knock a few back while they listened to shitty music and ate equally as shitty bar food. She knew he was still sticking around and that she didn’t need to be worried. He was glad. Because he could flirt with a million of them and still only have eyes for her.

After a belly full of liquor and the world turning to mush, she and Michael laughed as they burst through the bathroom doors. All hands and lips. He buried his face in her breasts and kissed away the beads of sweat that sat just at her cleavage. She held his head in her hands, cradled it for a moment, before shoving him against the wall and undoing his belt.

Sex with her was incredible.

It had always been good. Great, even, with the few that really cared. He wasn’t above paying hardworking girls for a sweet time. But there was something about the way she handled herself. How she could now just what to say when he was at his climax, her teeth probing at his ear as he saw stars. No one ever whispered sweet nothings into his ear. The encouragement he needed for his resolve to snap and everything flow out of him like he wasn’t a pent up jackass.

He'd never sat there and thought that things would be permanent. He was cautious in how he dealt with her. He did want a future. With someone. Because as the months went on, and his own mortality hovered over his psyche, he realized that the money wasn’t as good without a warm body to help him spend it.

He thought that maybe the girl who hopped on trains to escape the heat would be the one to fill the dull, aching void.

He was wrong.

* * *

 

When Michael was riding high on success and climbing the ranks, he idolized Amanda.

It wasn’t a fairytale meeting. She was a stripper and he was a john, simple as that. But when he walked into that club and saw her, something ensnared him.

Maybe it was the way she ignored every single move he made and batted those long lashes at Brad. Maybe it was the way she slammed some guy’s face into the table after the prick tried to put his hands on her when she walked by. Maybe it was the wild way her hair fell over her face as she crawled toward him and snatched the dollar bills away from his teasing grip, stuffing it into her g-string to cash out later on that night.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t tear his eyes off her and he wanted to go through every ounce of effort to make sure she knew it.

He met her after her shift. Spoke with the owner of the club, a pathetic, money-hungry, grubby asshole whose eyes lit up when Michael introduced himself. He must’ve known right away that he wasn’t like the others – that he wasn’t just some kid ready to blow a wad of cash and then not come back for another month or so. He was the real deal. A gun on his hip and an outfit that screamed importance. Hey, he had to look the part.

“Krystal! Have I got news for you.”

She didn’t look the least bit interested. No matter how much he puffed his chest out. “What? I’m done for the night. He can come back tomorrow if he wants a private show.”

“Ain’t lookin’ for few handsy minutes,” Michael admitted, raking his eyes over her. The gesture spoke otherwise, but he just couldn’t stop. Damn, she was fucking beautiful. Everything he wanted. “Wanted to see if you were up for a drink.”

“I don’t date clients.”

“Bullshit,” her manager coughed into his hand, the gesture not lost on either of them. “Michael here says he’s got no limit. And I know neither do you. So get outta here and have some fun, kid.”

“No.”

“Hey, I get it. No sense in walkin’ out with a stranger. Tell you what? I’ll come back tomorrow. See if you change your mind then.” He grinned at her and took a step backwards. “Krystal, huh? Good to know who I ask for.”

He later found out it was just a stage name. It didn’t really surprise him, but he managed to get her real name out of her eventually. It just took a few more consecutive nights of stopping by and watching her dance. He never paid her after that. He never took a seat close enough where he could see every stretch of her taut skin as she bent and twisted the way he could only fantasize about. But he did just keep a warm spot at the bar, sipping away at his liquor, waiting until she was on break so the two of them could get to know each other.

She didn’t care for him at first. That made him want her more. And his perseverance paid off, because she ended up looking forward to all of his visits.

Last hour before she got off. She pried her heels off her shoes and trotted along the carpet full of cigarette butts and condom wrappers, hopping up on the stool next to him.

“Lookin’ good out there, Mandy.”

She smirked at him and grabbed the drink he bought for her. An appletini. Something sour enough to keep her nausea at bay, as she was working on an empty stomach. She could go a whole twelve hours before putting anything in her, which was why he liked taking her out to dinner. When they could sit at the drive-in in the middle of town and share snacks and drinks that she would just work off the next day. She never gained a damn pound.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe I do, Michael. Maybe I do.” She stared at her glass. “You sticking around here for a while? Or moving on?”

“Long as you’re here? Can’t see myself anywhere else.”

She hadn’t been expecting that answer, because she snorted out the drink from her nose. They both laughed hysterically as she tried to clean it up, him grabbing a napkin from the dispenser and dabbing away at the spray on her stomach.

“Hey, no touching the merchandise.”

“My mistake.” He recoiled, hands in the air and a smile that contradicted his apology. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

He that night with her number scribbled on a coaster he lifted from the bar. He fully intended to call her, but they got a big break in the bank they were shaking down and had to move quick. A small window of opportunity when things lined up just right. So he forced himself into his work and lined his pockets with more cash.

When he did dial the number, another woman answered.

“Yeah? Who is this?”

“Michael Townley. Who’s this?”

“I don’t know you. Hang up the phone.”

“No. I’m lookin’ for Mandy.”

“She’s busy.” The dial tone greeted him and he saw red.

It wasn’t just because the bitch on the other line hung up on him. It was because he’d been looking forward to seeing her. He wanted to just shed the stress and lose himself in those big doe eyes of hers.

He drove down toward the club to shake up her manager. To get her home address out of him. Because wherever she was, he would find her.

He definitely didn’t expect to see her climbing into the back of some random car.

He stepped out and crushed the cigarette under his boot. Waltzed up to the side of the car and knocked on the window. It wasn’t hard to see what was going on. Not when they weren’t even tinted.

“What’s the big idea—”

Michael reached down for Amanda instead. He plucked her out of her seat as she struggled to adjust her skirt, the both of them completely ignoring the guy that had gone ballistic.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she screeched. “Do you know how much you just cost me?”

“Yeah. I know exactly how much. I saw how much he handed you. You really think that’s what you’re worth? You could easily make twice that much.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you, Michael! I’ve been managing on my own just fine!”

“But you’d do even better with a partner. That’s what I’m offering you.” He gazed at her seriously. “Because I’m not gonna be the guy that stands back and watches you get screwed over by whoever thinks they’re doin’ right by you.”

She hadn’t expected that. In retrospect, he could scarcely believe those words come out of his mouth. But the look of disbelief on her face said it all. She bit her lip and stared at him through watery eyes. The lipstick smeared on her cheek. He reached over and rubbed it away with his thumb, a smile breaking over his face.

They were unstoppable.

Until marriage and kids took it all away.

* * *

 

When Michael was down on his luck and thought he’d wasted his entire life, he idolized Cassidy Nardovino.

His prime years were behind him and he’d completed the biggest score of his life. All the loose ends were tied. He thought he accomplished everything he ever wanted. But his family continued to interfere in his own personal happiness. Things that he enjoyed turned to bitter routine. He fucking hated it.

Then she came along. Big shot therapist with a ridiculous pair of legs, a face that broke hearts everywhere she went, and a quick wit that left him chewing on his own words. She was everything he could’ve wanted. Beautiful. Intelligent. A woman that knew who she was and wasn’t going to be intimidated, not even by a guy that openly admitted how many people he’d killed for money. She could reflect every single thought he had back onto him, making sense out of the mush that he’d been trying to sift through for the past twenty years or so. And she did it without babying him. Without making him feel like an asshole.

When they first started seeing each other, it was under a professional context. She played cat-n'-mouse with him. Some days he could just feel the tension between them, his lustful thoughts clouding all sense of what was right and what was wrong. Other times, she would just go cold. Put on this air of superiority and break away from everything they shared, creating enough distance that he became frustrated with the completely one-eighty she gave him.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted out of this, but he knew that it gave him more of a thrill than the last ten years of his life with Amanda and the kids. Seeing her was the only high point of his week, even if it came with the threat of yet another step backward. She was the only person that grounded him. That brought him back to reality. Someone that actually listened to what the fuck he had to say without telling him he was just being a little bitch about it.

And sure, sometimes she would call him out on his bullshit, but hearing it from her made it easier, because she didn’t do it just to get on his nerves. She did it because she saw something in him that even he had trouble picturing.

Michael did a lot of stupid shit to try and get her attention. To reach out to her. Things that a jealous boyfriend would do even though he was no one to her. It drove him crazy when he found out she was seeing people. It broke him when she sat there and told him to forget about things that they shared.

But he was fucking persistent.

He went through with it because there was more to it. Because she deserved someone who actually gave a shit about her. Because there was more in common between the two of them than she cared to admit. Because he could look her in the eye and tell her how he really felt, put his raw fucking feelings on the table, and have her give it to him straight in a way that he could actually understand it.

It took a long time just to get through. Much more than he would’ve liked. But in that moment when he realized that she wanted it almost as much as he did? It made it all worth it.

* * *

 

When Michael was ready to start over and give himself another shot, he loved Cassidy Nardovino.

He tolerated his mother. Maybe he was protective of her because he knew that she was damn near the only thing he had.

He liked Sandra. She was a nice girl up until she started to judge him for what felt like just existing.

He fell in love with Jacqueline. She was everything to him at one point. Until the day where she left him for good, he was sure of that.

He was in love with Amanda. It started out as lust and attraction. She was the one person he could trust not to rat him out. A girl just crazy enough to stick around with him when she found out what he did for a living. He helped her make money and she stuck by his side. It was a hell of an arrangement. Later, she became his wife. The mother of his kids. And he never thought that he would get tired of that, as fatherhood was something he took seriously after his own dad had screwed that up.

But he loved Cassidy, plain and simple. It wasn’t as wild and passionate as his thing with Jack because it didn’t need to be. It was never as sex-fueled as his shit with Amanda. That wasn’t what his primary focus was. They were three different women that left an impact on him, but Cass was the one that forced him to rethink everything he’d ever known.

She was supportive of him. She gave a shit about his interests. His likes. His dislikes. She encouraged him. There were always words she just spewed out, the things she said sending a steady warmth blossoming in the center of his chest.

They watched movies together. Crammed on the couch, a full spaghetti dinner sitting on the coffee table while she curled up next to him in a pair of worn pajamas. Her hair down and a crinkle in her nose as she laughed along at the whacky, outdated humor of Vinewood classics. The both of them shouting out iconic lines to each other to express themselves. Saying goodbye in the form of an old romance monologue, with her always responding with the right reference in mind.

She stopped by to take a tour of Solomon’s studio. Chatted up with the actors on set like they were old friends. Shook hands with the big man himself, making his chest puff with pride as she introduced herself as his girl. The three of them shared their favorite scenes from the work so far, her creative insight leaving his boss speechless.

He found himself smiling more often.

He still woke up from nightmares. But she was there to soothe him. Call him back to bed. So he could curl up next to her and at least try to get some rest.

She didn’t take his bullshit. She didn’t need saving. She built herself from the ground up when things in her past went sour, and she was able to pursue what she wanted with grit and wit.

He knew she wasn’t perfect. Maybe that was the biggest thing.

With Jack, he couldn’t see her doing any wrong. He forgave her even for leaving because he wanted things to stay the way they were. He never had the chance to be critical of who she was because he was so worried she would split again.

With Amanda, the time wasn’t there. They spent a few months together before she got pregnant. And sure, he was ecstatic about it – he wanted to be the parent that his own never were – but that feeling faded as they were challenged over and over again. What started out as a casual fling soon thrust into routine and responsibility just wasn’t a good way to seal their relationship.

But Cass? She wasn’t this untouchable woman that he couldn’t reach no matter how hard he tried. She was real. And she was more than just the persona she put on when she reached out to clients. She had a mean fucking temper when she was pushed to her limits. She wasn’t very good at admitting she was wrong. Maybe it was because she had a little bit of an ego too; climbing her way through the ranks and pushing through intensive training to get where she was might’ve been one of the reasons why.

Sometimes she drove him crazy. She refused to let him buy things for her. He was so used to throwing his cash around when he was with his girls. In high school he slung dope so he could buy Sandra that prom dress she kept gushing about. Jack got a new pistol with her name engraved on the side. And for Amanda he held a guy at gunpoint just to make the payment for her implants.

It was worth it at the time, but now? Cass didn’t have any of that. She made her own money. She refused any kind of move he made with gifts. She didn’t want him to think that his money was all she wanted, but he was so used to providing that it felt wrong if he didn’t. He was the breadwinner since he was a kid. And it was a hard pill to swallow when she talked him down.

He looked at himself in the mirror and learned to at least like what he saw.

He didn’t isolate himself any more. No more days sitting outside in the sun with music and his thoughts swallowing him up. She joined him. Played around in the pool. He picked her up and dunked her in the water, scared her when she was snoozing on top of her inner tube, kissed her sunburned cheeks as she laughed and pushed him away halfheartedly.

He played pranks on her. Put a rubber band on the hose near the kitchen sink. She turned it on and got a face full of warm water. She ended up chasing him into the bedroom and pinning him down to tickle him until he begged her to stop.

He watched her dance in the kitchen when she fried up some breakfast the morning after yet another incredible night.

If things didn’t go as planned in the bedroom, she never held it against him. She was happy to just have him there. He always made sure that she got off as many times as she needed to. And she would pay him back a tenfold later.

He loved kissing his name into her skin.

He could watch her for hours as she went through paperwork, her eyebrows knitting as she figured out just the right way to word the technical jargon in a way that would get her superiors on board.

He swelled with pride when he saw her name advertised along Los Santos, hearing genuine compliments of her work ethic from people around town.

It took him nearly fifty years to realize what he wanted in this life. 

He was just lucky enough that she loved him back.


End file.
